


finding truth between heart and soul

by Mayarene Rose (Paradise_of_Mary_Jane)



Series: Ace!Dick Grayson [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Gen, Mentions of Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradise_of_Mary_Jane/pseuds/Mayarene%20Rose
Summary: It's Tim who gives him the word for it, fourteen years later.





	finding truth between heart and soul

**Author's Note:**

> I am finally free from the academe for a few weeks and back to writing fic. Hooray!
> 
> Warnings: This piece mentions and narrates events of Nightwing v2 #93, particularly the last two pages, so yeah, tread lightly.

It’s Tim who gives him the word for it, fourteen years later. 

Tim’s a lot younger than Dick, understands the new world better than Dick ever could, given that he’s the one who grew up in it. It was a throwaway line, really. Tim might not have even realized what he’d given Dick. He was just talking about some civilian friend he had, someone he’d reconnected with. They went to the Gotham Pride March together, and the two of them had wrapped himself up in colors of purple and white and grey and black. It was Tim’s first time and the same thing for his friend.

They danced through the streets and screamed _they were there_ and it felt like they had mattered and felt that they were real.

Dick couldn’t really relate, not that he’d ever say so out loud.

(He’d gone with the Titans once, when he was sixteen, but he’d felt small and out of place. More like an intruder than anything else.

Normally, he loves a celebration, especially something like Pride that just explodes with heart and color and light but. But.

It’s also a reminder of everything he’s not. Everything he doesn’t know. Something he could never be. Donna and Roy tried to include him, of course they did, but it didn’t really help Dick feel any less out of place. It was obvious that Dick wasn’t really supposed to be there.

He never really came back after that.)

Tim mentions the word and it seems odd and unfamiliar and out of place for the story he was telling. Dick asks what it means. Tim explains, offhandedly, like it was already common knowledge. Dick swallows and nods and smiles slightly and Tim goes on with his story.

And Dick listens. And later, when he’s all on his own, he tries the word out for himself, tests out how it fits on his tongue, wonders if it’s right.

 _Asexual._ It’s a bit strange, a bit foreign; a weight his mouth doesn’t know how to carry yet. Dick waits for it to become familiar. Waits for the word to start being his.

Tim goes on with his story, not really noticing. It’s okay. Dick’s gotten used to hiding that part of him away anyway.

\--

People often wonder about his relationship with Kory. Or not wondered. There weren’t any questions with their knowing glances, sly smirks. People always looked like they just knew, which they really didn’t. They definitely have a lot of misconceptions about it. The Titans knew what they really were, of course, but neither Dick nor Kory ever said anything to correct anyone.

Assumptions are easy to make, especially where the two of them are concerned. Dick’s fairly attractive, Kory’s a _model,_ and the two of them are overly physical, always wrapped around each other, always touching, hands always wandering. Tara made a lot of jokes about it, so did Danny, when they were first starting out, especially when Dick and Kory would disappear into his bedroom and wouldn’t emerge for hours. Donna set them straight pretty quickly, though.

Here’s the truth: Dick and Kory went on dates, they slept on the same bed together, they held hands when they walked, and Kory kissed him on the mouth sometimes and sometimes Dick kissed her. Dick would have married her if things had gone better, and he’s never regretted asking. They were in love, probably still are, probably always will be.

They’ve also never had sex.

Tamarenean culture demanded affection, physicality and Dick understood that well. He’s a lot like that too, preferring to speak with his body than his mouth. Movement speaks true in ways that words rarely do. Kory liked that he understood, especially given the fact that humans rarely did. They’d been drawn to each other from the beginning because of it and it was a match made in heaven.

But affection and physicality doesn’t equate to sex, no matter what the rest of the world seems to think. Donna and Roy had managed to drill the word ‘no’ into Dick’s head after a while, told him he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do.

It’s a worse taboo on Tamaran to force themselves on someone, to take away their ability to move or act of their own accord, than it is on Earth. Kory asked him for it, the first night they were together, and Dick had managed to say no, and Kory accepted it without question, like it was normal, like there was nothing wrong with him, and they moved on. They spent the night talking and talking and talking as if it made no difference because it didn’t because it was okay.

They fell asleep at around three a.m. and Dick felt safe, wrapped around her strong arms.

They were in love. There was never any question about it. Dick lets Kory kiss him sometimes. It hasn’t gotten any less strange but Kory’s always been free with her affections and her kisses never meant the same things as anyone else’s. Kory never felt the need to explain herself so Dick never felt like he had to ask.

Sometimes Dick kissed her too, not because it seemed like the thing to do, not because he felt that he had to, but because he wanted to. It was like an offering or a gift or a blessing. It was being in love. It was easy understanding what being in love means when he’s with her.

With Kory, it was the easiest thing in the world.

\--

Dick starts at the Internet. Researches it because what the hell, he thrives on research. There’s an entire community devoted to it and hosts and hosts of articles and part of him wonders how the hell he missed it. Says that it’s natural, that a lot of people are like that too, that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, that there’s nothing wrong or sick about it. Uses the word over and over again like it’s real. Makes it so real with stories and words and so much more. _Asexual asexual asexual asexual,_ over and over until it starts to blur together, stamped on the computer screen, a set of pixels, looking more object than word. Something he can touch, something a little more than a thought.

Just thinking of what that could mean sends an odd lump through Dick’s throat. Not sadness, exactly, and not quite anxiety, either. More like anticipation except he’s not really sure what he’s waiting for.

Then, when the Internet stops being helpful, he goes to Donna.

“I didn’t know there was a word for it,” he said. “Was that a new thing?”

“Relatively, yeah.” Donna takes his hand and squeezes it gently. “I didn’t know you needed it anymore. You seemed okay.”

“I don’t. I am okay,” Dick says, because he doesn’t because he is okay. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not really. He’s nearly thirty already, not the same fifteen-year-old who was so lost and confused. He knows himself well-enough at this point, knows how to deal with who he is, and is mostly okay with being him. “It’s just…” he trails off, not sure how to phrase it.

He doesn’t know how to talk about it, about an entire life spent drifting, undefined, apart. What is there to say about all the years and years he’s spent without the language to talk about a part of himself? He’s spent his whole life not talking about it. What is he supposed to do now that the words are just suddenly there, sitting right in front of him, just a few years too late.

How does he begin to get all those years back? He doesn’t like thinking about what-ifs and he’s made his peace with who he is but.

But.

Pain is pain and scars are scars. Wounds heal but they never go away. What else is there to say apart from that?

\--

As it turns out, the word no doesn’t matter when you’re having a panic attack.

When you can’t even feel your body, when the air around you disappears and you’re left with a chest that’s forgotten how to beat without shattering your ribs, saying _don’t touch me_ over and over again doesn’t make a difference. What you want doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the rain on falling on your face. The blood on your hands. The taste of failure mixed with gunpowder on your tongue.

All you know is the woman on top of you, rocking back and forth, caressing you, her laughter, sultry voice saying _querido_ over and over and over again like it’s something other than a string of sounds that disappear under the pattering raindrops.

Because in those moments, your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re a spectator to the sack of meat and blood and bones being ridden and you wonder if watching means you’re dead.

Dead men desire nothing. Dead men love nothing. Dead men don’t speak, don’t say no. Words belong to men who love and live and that’s never been you.

In that moment, you wonder, just wonder that maybe, if maybe that’s the missing piece you’ve never ever considered.

\--

The thing is, knowing the word doesn’t really change anything. The world doesn’t shift. Things don’t suddenly start making sense.

Things do get easier, but just for him because he only says the word to himself. Words always make things easier. But harder too. Because now Dick’s world is supposed to be different but everything, at its heart, is the same. Dick doesn’t know what he wants, really. Maybe he wants to not remember, to not feel as if he actually stands apart and different when he’s spent so long pretending otherwise.

Not being something makes it easy to let the world assume you’re something. It’s hard to comprehend a lack. People always prefer filling gaps in their knowledge with assumptions of the world. Dick loves standing out but he’s good at blending in too when it matters.

He thinks he’s well past the point of telling the world he exists. He knows he does. He’s been safe in the knowledge for a long time now. The memory of the gaping wound in his chest where that other thing is supposed to be exists and Dick doesn’t want a reminder. Doesn’t want the life he’s built to be upturned by that one thing about himself that he never figured out.

He’s spent such a long time building up a life around a lie he never had to tell. He never convinced anyone he was the same as them. They always knew and understood before he did.

And now the world is the same but Dick has something different. Dick _can_ be different. There is a word out there that makes who he is something he can hold in his hand and show the entire world, something that will let him say _this is what i am and this is who i want to be and this is who i will always be_ for everyone around to hear _._

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with the idea.

\--

Bruce is the one who picks him up from the disaster that was Bludhaven. He takes him and Tim away on a ship, away from superheroing and cities and anything that could destroy a person’s life.

Dick had watched the waves, gripping the railing tight enough to hurt. He waited at night, found the most secluded part of the ship, and stayed there, watching the sea rock everything in a gentle lullaby. He did it every night for that year without fail. It was the only way he could find any semblance of peace.

Bruce never followed him but Dick knew he kept an eye on him. Dick hated it but he knew Bruce had good reason to worry about Dick and high things without too many barriers.

Dick never told him about what happened on that rainy night on the apartment building. He knows about Blockbuster but not about the other things. He doesn’t know the gory details, couldn’t have possibly known, but Bruce thinks he knows the whole story so Dick let him assume what he assumed.

Dick’s very good at doing that. Until now, he hasn’t told a single soul about that night on the rooftop.

He doesn’t think he ever will.

Just another thing to keep to himself. Just another thing people will never know because he doesn’t have the words to say _it’s real it happened i don’t understand but it did and it hurts and it’s real_ and he never will.

In Dick’s experience, people believe what they want to believe. And they never believed him in what he’s said before.

\--

Dick decides to start small. Once he’s gotten comfortable enough to say the word out loud and not feel like a lie, he says it again. Again and again and again just to make sure it’s true.

He tells Tim first because he figures he owes the kid that much.

They’re in an in the library at the manor. Tim is trying to read but not really and Dick sits down right next to him. Tim puts the book down, looking almost relieved. Dick catches a glimpse of the cover. Something about economics or some other thing from Dick’s nightmares. Tim raises an eyebrow at Dick in a silent question and gives him a look of relief. Dick almost laugh at the expression.

“How’s college?” Dick asks.

“Can we not do this?” Tim groans. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m only going cause Bruce is forcing me.”

“Hey now.” Dick bumps his shoulder. “It could be fun.”

“Says the guy who dropped out after six months.”

“I said ‘could be fun.’”

Tim snorts and Dick manages a small smile. Then, he remembers what he’s there and the smile slips from his face. He takes a deep breath. He figures that there’s no way to make to have this conversation that isn’t an awkward mess.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he says.

“Go for it,” Tim says. “I would literally listen to anything rather than read about macroeconomics for one more second.”

“It’s pretty important, Timmy,” Dick says.

“All the more reason to tell me right now,” Tim says without missing a beat. He throws the book under the table, away from view.

Dick forces himself to smile. It’s not that hard. Tim’s a cute kid.

Dick says, “You remember when we talked about Pride a few days ago? You said you and your friend were…”

“Asexual, yeah,” Tim says. He tilts his head, a question in his eyes.

“I think I am too,” he says. “Asexual, that is.”

Saying the words out loud in their entirety feels like an exhale. It’s a weight of his chest. It’s something he never knew he needed and something he’s been looking for his entire life.

It’s him saying, _it matters, of course it matters. it matters to him so it matters to those who care about him, too._

It’s the answer to a question Dick didn’t know he asked fourteen years ago.

And Dick expects a bombardment of questions, expects having to explain himself, like he’s always had to, expects to be told it’s not real and that he’s being ridiculous. Instead, Tim smiles the widest smile Dick’s seen from him in a long time. Instead, Tim makes a move as if to reach out and hug Dick before he remembers his instincts and stops himself.

(After all these years, the kid’s still not one for touch.)

“That’s great Dick!” he says, smile wide and beaming and sincere. “I’m so glad you told me.”

Dick reaches for Tim himself and wraps his arm around the kid. He presses his face against the crook of Tim’s neck. There’s a pain in his chest but it’s the good kind. The kind of pain that comes when a wound is finally starting to heal.

It matters, he thinks. Right now, right here, he knows he matters.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I didn't make the timeline explicit in the first piece, but it's set around 1999-2000. This one is set in 2014.  
> \- I basically HC every single character as ace. Sue me.  
> \- This is a really personal piece for me. I cried while writing this. It feels like I poured my soul into it. And I hope it helps other ace peeps out there who are struggling. I'm always available to talk to if you need it.
> 
> As always, comments give me life. Also you can find me on [tumblr](https://discowlng.tumblr.com)!


End file.
